


An incompletely edited manuscript, for consideration by the Board

by Leni Jess (Leni_Jess)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Presents, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni_Jess/pseuds/Leni%20Jess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Board's last chance to decide whether a biography of Severus Snape (even disguised as a collection of essays) is really a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An incompletely edited manuscript, for consideration by the Board

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for odd format, maybe, including demi-semi first and second person narratives.
> 
> Harry does not, in fact, appear.

To: Conon Diggle, Chairman of the Board, Fwooper House Press  
From: Bartemeus Harrower, Executive Editor  
Subject: An incompletely edited manuscript, for consideration by the Board

Conon

Further to our recent discussion, attached are extracts from _A Festschrift in honour of Professor Severus Snape, OM (1st), MP, Emeritus Headmaster of Hogwarts, compiled by Harmodius Thynne_ , for consideration by the Board and (first, if you take my advice) by the Press's solicitors.

The complete manuscript as currently edited ( _sans_ emendations, for greater ease of reading) is of course available. The solicitors will want to go over it in meticulous detail (and for once that really does mean "in fear ~~and trembling~~ of adverse consequences"). The Board, however, should get the flavour of the work from these extracts, without ~~getting bored~~ being overwhelmed by a mass of detail. Essentially, they need to brace themselves for controversy, but also to recognise the importance of this publication (not merely to Fwooper Press's income, for many years to come).

As I told you when I recommended Harmodius Thynne to you as a suitable compiler for this, shall we say, history of one of the most controversial figures of the last century, he is a scholar, of good reputation, with substantial (and very readable) publications to his credit. He is known to the general public as well as to historians and specialists such as the Auror Division's senior researchers, though primarily for his immensely popular unauthorised biography of Rita Skeeter: _Muckraker and Beetle: a moulder of public opinion_. (Remember wishing we'd published that, and your amazement that Salamander Books had allowed him to use that title? But he was quite justified in taking the risk: the public is that ~~dim~~ unreflective. Fortunately for Salamander, none of the reviewers mentioned scarab beetles.)

He is also the author of _Amelia Bones: a leader lost_ , which, more than any other, has put the history of recent Ministers for Magic into perspective for the wizarding world, without undue drama, but effective in its dignified treatment of the subject and its restrained speculation on how the Riddle Insurrection might have been handled had she lived.

[Handwritten in the margin by the previous paragraphs: You know all this. The Board won't. Summary, Chairman, for the use of.]

However [margin: for your eyes only] Harmodius is a man with not only (1) a mission, but also (2) a theory on means of creating verisimilitude.

He appears to admire Snape sincerely – ~~some~~ historians are more capable than most ~~others~~ of dispassion, and of putting a subject in context. (It helps that Harmodius was a Slytherin, and competent in Potions.) He wishes to present a positive view – and if the Board hadn't seen the value of doing the same, they would not – I trust – have commissioned this book. He has, in fact, preserved that disinterested judgement in the portion of text for which he is responsible, and has not allowed his editing to skew the judgements of others. [margin: Let's not get into theories of perception or whatever, eh? Of _course_ he's shaping the narrative to suit his ends! But he's played fair, for a Slytherin.] The essays on Snape's later life – say, after his resumption of the Headmastership of Hogwarts – in my view represent the man fairly, both his achievements, and his limitations.

While Harmodius has edited much of the text of witness Pensieve reports for coherence, brevity etc, his theory has ensured that the text does not consist merely of Pensieve records – evidence certainly acceptable before the Wizengamot – but is edited to present events as from the point of view of the witness of the moment. (As you know, a true Pensieve record appears to be from a bystander's view rather than a participant's.)

I don't doubt that the first extract (Madam Granger's first contribution) will raise the Board's eyebrows, if not their guard hairs.

Indeed, all three extracts are controversial. They do, however, show the usefulness, in increased immediacy and sense of truth, of Harmodius's approach to editing, a technique that has not previously been employed in biography, or historical analysis.

I have not attached any of Mr Potter's contributions (not all of which were provided via Pensieve; some of them do reflect a certain bias in favour of his partner, though this does not appear to have obscured any significant truths). Even now there is a general regrettable willingness to accept whatever he says. (That certainly made many reforms of the last fifty years much easier, and it seems fair to say that on the whole Potter has done far more good than harm.) Still, the Board is as likely as any other witch or wizard to accept what he says wholesale. [margin: Do me a favour, don't repeat that. He is currently our Supreme Mugwump, after all, even if he's never exerted himself to act as Minister.]

The second extract, taken from a more extended record by Lucius Malfoy (access given by his son Draco), may astonish and dismay, though anyone who clearly remembers the senior Malfoy should remember him as articulate and persuasive (as well as quite amoral), so long as his temper was leashed. Obviously the present head of the house has few illusions about his father. Nonetheless, this extract is one which balances contributions from former students and even Order of the Phoenix members who still feel some resentment along with the obligatory gratitude. It is unusual, also, in being addressed to Snape – Malfoy's choice, not the editor's, and a choice made several years before Malfoy's death, it seems.

It is the only witness account provided by one of Riddle's significant adherents. (Few survived, after all, and most who did have been in Azkaban long enough to render them less than reliable witnesses, even in the absence of Dementors.) When I say that, I am not counting Mrs Malfoy's Pensieve account of her dealings with Professor Snape; she was never formally a Death Eater, or indeed Draco Malfoy's, of whom the same is true.

Malfoy senior had a fine political judgement – at least in hindsight! We must remember that he made himself useful to Potter in ways which Snape, for all his skills and indeed heroism, could not. Malfoy obviously had plenty of time, in his years under house arrest, to re-evaluate the actions of his so-called colleague. He presents a valuable and detailed record which contrasts impressions given at the time and understanding achieved later, which enables a reader to grasp how great were the risks Snape ran and how skilful his deceit of his alleged master.

The third extract is the major part of the former Mrs Potter's contribution. You will note that she still resents the long-term relationship between Professor Snape and her spouse – not surprising, perhaps, even though Mr Potter appears to have been scrupulously faithful while the marriage lasted (until their third child left Hogwarts, you probably recall). The Board may have even more qualms about this than about the two earlier extracts. I urge you, however, to press them to accept its inclusion, if only in the interest of the book's being seen to take account of all views of its subject.

Remind them, if you please, of the Professor's assertion that he is done with deceit. If they also remember his vicious temper and dislike of what he styles invasion of his privacy, remind them also that he consented to the publication of this book, and that he knows who has contributed to it. (I'd be a little surprised if he didn't have a good idea of what they've said, too; he may have given up deceit, but his intelligence-gathering has remained first class.) In sum, the subject of the book is going to scream long and loud when it's published. The Board must accept that. They might also consider what percentage of his protests will be mere formality. [margin: and probably private entertainment, but there's no need to mention that.]

I propose you encourage them to approve the publication unaltered. Any short-term personal discomfort should be overcome by the knowledge that this account of an enigmatic figure in the wizarding world's history is unlikely to be surpassed, given that many of the sources of materials in the book are no longer available for interrogation. There will undoubtedly be later books that re-interpret, but this gathering of first-hand evidence is unlikely to be improved by elapsed time. This book as it stands will be unique, and forever a brilliant fwooper feather in the Board's collective hat.

You may advise our solicitors that all Pensieve records used in the book are available for inspection (both in Pensieve copy, archived in our highest security Gringotts vault, and in transcript on parchment), and that all living witnesses have provided a signed release, and also countersigned the parchments. Where witnesses are no longer living, their heirs have similarly signed releases, except in the case of the few records provided by the Auror Division, where the release is signed by the Division Head and countersigned by the Minister. That such records have been made available to Harmodius may convince the Board of the considerable trust the Ministry reposes in him as an historian. It is almost unheard of for such records to be made available until at least a century has passed after the death of direct participants. This fact too, you may advise the Board, will help to assure this book's unique position in modern historical publication.

[signature: BH]

~~ ~~ ~~

Madam Hermione Granger, OM (1st), Magicae Artes Magistra (UL, Merlin), MW, Professor of History of Magic (UL, Merlin): edited Pensieve transcript 1 (partial)

I have had a long and generally adversarial relationship with Professor Snape. I early learned to respect him, however, and before the Riddle Insurrection had been put down had learned to cooperate with him, and even to trust in his goodwill....

In his first year as Headmaster of Hogwarts, when Riddle controlled the Ministry, Snape's ability to act freely was seriously compromised by two other appointments Riddle had made to Hogwarts, in those cases without a shadow of academic appropriateness. The late Amycus and Alecto Carrow were distinguished not only by moral turpitude [margin: Harmodius tells me she actually said that; Madam Granger's done too much public speaking.], but by a vicious enjoyment in punishing erring students. Their definitions of error were deplorable.

The students soon recognised this, and most submitted to lesser punishment rather than earning worse by protesting. Since only pureblood students were admitted that year, Professor Snape frequently put to the Carrows (technically his subordinates, but in fact given equal authority by Riddle) the desirability of not harming worthy members of the wizarding population, already much reduced. In at least two instances, as evidence given to the Wizengamot during the Carrows' trial showed, only his personal intervention, using his superior magical ability, saved the lives of three students (third years Messrs Billing and Thorne, and fifth year Miss Hayhoe).

I myself was saved punishment, and Harry Potter's quest much inconvenience (potentially fatal, thanks in part to my own reckless disregard of the danger of entering Hogwarts, even by night during the Christmas holiday period). I had wanted to consult Professor Dumbledore's portrait. I was fortunate in guessing the password to the Headmaster's office, but unfortunate in the former Headmaster's refusing to answer my central query. (No, you don't need to know what I asked him; that is utterly private, and irrelevant to discussion of Professor Snape's actions as Headmaster.)

To make matters worse, Amycus Carrow trapped me as I went down the gargoyle stairs. No students had been allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, so my presence was at once suspect. He didn't know me, and Professor Snape arrived before he had any success (using the Cruciatus Curse) in finding out my purpose. Professor Snape intervened, and claimed me as a student who had been sent home ill early in December. She had been severely and inappropriately punished by Alecto Carrow, he told me much later, in a way and in circumstances that led the woman to conceal most details of the occasion from her brother. Had I known that at the time I might have been even more apprehensive when he assured Amycus that he would attend to my punishment personally, recommending the man to seek assurance from his sister that this would be severe indeed.

Professor Snape also told me, years later, that he knew the girl would not be returning to Hogwarts – her parents managed to get her out of the country and send her to Beauxbatons – so that she was not endangered by this claim to her identity. I then admired his quick wit, whereas at the time I blamed him for carelessness with a student's personal safety – the nature of Alecto's punishment was clear, though not explicitly stated. Indeed, he was sufficiently clear about it that I thought I would prefer the Headmaster's punishment to hers. He had never touched a student, let alone in that way, after all, and I was certainly accustomed to his tirades. He was hardly likely to give me detention scrubbing cauldrons.

I did not for a moment expect that his punishment might include personal assault, but he mimed the opening indignities so well that I as well as Amycus Carrow was convinced of his intention. Fortunately Carrow yielded to his demand for private enjoyment; he, after all, preferred to have no audience but his sister. Once we were alone Professor Snape rebuked me for unnecessary hysteria (with fluent asperity, as was his habit), and asked what I wanted. I told him Professor Dumbledore had not been willing to speak to me – since I had little of the information I had come for there was no harm in saying that. I could always invent substitute questions, and sustain the hysteria, too, if I needed time to think.

I will not repeat what he said about the Headmaster, but I have acknowledged to him since that there was much justice in his complaint. At the time I was too frightened that he might prevent me from returning to my friends to worry about what he said. Professor Dumbledore had always been able to look after himself, save at the moment of his death – as I then thought. I've learned better since, of course, hence my sympathy with Professor Snape on the subject.

He did not try very hard to find out what I wanted, which I then thought curious; but Professor Snape had always been able to draw a veil of exasperation and anger over whatever his real thoughts and responses might have been. He also had a tendency to concentrate on irrelevancies when he was angry; I thought myself lucky that he did seem to be in that state. He gave me some information and what turned out to be good advice, in the form of a rant about my imprudence (and impudence). I've learned since that he had done that under much greater personal stress than he had been that night. Harry and I should have compared notes about him sooner, perhaps, but at the time I just thought myself lucky that he turned me out – not by the door, but by the window.

I never liked broom travel, but being levitated using both a Featherweight Charm and Mobilicorpus from the top of the Headmaster's tower to the lawns below gave me no higher an opinion of being suspended in midair, powerless to help myself, and dependent on his power. I need not have worried, of course; he set me down as delicately as if I had indeed been that feather, a short walk from the Apparition boundary.

I'm not ashamed to say I scuttled back to Harry and Ron as fast as I could, and didn't complain when they both reviled my attempt at independent investigation. If I'd been successful they'd probably have complained as long and loudly. Once I got over my fright, though, I had a great deal to think about, in the inconsistencies in Professor Snape's behaviour, given what I had already heard of his treatment of the students at Hogwarts that year. For the sake of my self-respect I'm glad that I managed a few valid conclusions before the Battle of Hogwarts.

I had no idea, however, of the extent to which he opposed Riddle, even when I observed what I thought to be his murder by his master, until Harry showed Ron and me Snape's memories in the Pensieve, hours later. It was lucky I hadn't told Harry that in the event I had had no objection to being fondled and kissed. (Nor did I say I had liked it, however horrified I was at knowing that, and knowing I'd felt like that even with Carrow leering at us.) Professor Snape didn't apologise, but he released me the moment he got rid of Carrow, and distracted me by scolding instead. It was probably quite a few years before Harry would have been able to accept knowing my reaction without jealousy, though he's known it for a long time now, of course, and had something quite ribald to say when I did at last tell him. (His theme was flexibility. I'm not saying any more.)

When I learned from Draco that Severus Snape was alive after all I was glad as well as astonished, but....

~~ ~~ ~~

The late Lucius Malfoy: edited Pensieve transcript 5 (partial) – note this was already in the form of an address to Severus Snape; it has been edited for propriety

.... always were a lucky bastard. Yes, you thought yourself hard done by as a student, but you should have ignored those Gryffindors and concentrated on the approval of your fellow Slytherins. For a halfblood in that house you got off lightly, whatever you thought then. I suppose you knew that by the time you'd been teaching at Hogwarts for a while.

When I brought you to the Dark Lord (oh, you don't say that now, I know, but old habits, Severus, old habits; that tracking curse Rookwood dreamed up didn't encourage me to use his name either)... Yes. I brought our lord a gift of an extraordinary potions maker. (I'm not flattering you; even at eighteen you knew your worth, difficult though you'd found it, without family or money, to find a master to apprentice to. And he knew your worth too, allowing you to complete your apprenticeship instead of demanding you make yourself useful full time. I might have been jealous, had I not felt myself secure. What fools all young men are.)

Eventually you were set to inventing potions as well as making them, or researching old, forgotten potions whose methods were half lost in selfish obscurantism. You did well, and stayed away from the sharp end of Muggle- and Mudblood-baiting, though it turned out later you'd somehow made yourself a pretty duellist. Brave man, I suppose, to volunteer as Bella's practice partner – and even more a fool. Didn't you realise that if our lord had shown you even a little more favour, you'd have had a sad accident one day? Cunning bastard, probably, as well as lucky. Always so willing to serve, without asking for reward. Perhaps it amused Voldemort – there, I said it, happy now? – it amused him to help you deceive Bella.

Then, before we knew it, you'd been sent off to the old fool at Hogwarts, to play the penitent, the student running back to the only home he'd known, to spy on him. I shouldn't call him a fool, I suppose; in the end he fooled all of us but you – and I suppose you still regret disposing of him. But he was dying anyway, you know that. Knew it then. Idiot, Severus. You let him use you for a mercy killing, and twist your conscience's tail for obliging him, force you to go on serving him even after his death, even after you were out from under his thumb.

I don't doubt, thinking of all he did to you, that you found the hatred to use the Killing Curse successfully. Were you mad for years, Severus, or just blindly set on penance for a death you never intended? Well, if you loved that woman it was a boy's folly. If our lord hadn't killed her, in spite of the promise you were so bold as to ask of him, you'd have got over her a lot faster. Did you never notice she had a tongue on her like a Peruvian Vipertooth (yes, even I noticed that, years ahead of you both though I was), as well as a glare like the Killing Curse itself? Just like her son.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever taught you anything, beyond which fork to use, and you'd have picked that up fast enough. By the time you left Hogwarts you talked just like one of us, though not from such a good family, of course. I wonder what skills you learned of our master? Some spells and curses, I expect, and of course you had access to grimoires and potions ingredients you'd never have seen otherwise.

Deceit must have been mother's milk to you, as it was to me – in quite a different way, of course, but your father must have been as much a threat to your safety as mine was to me. I am conscious I still owe you for that reprieve, though then I wouldn't have acknowledged it – Malfoys don't acknowledge debts to inferiors.

Idiot, Severus, you are more than my equal now: free – much freer than I, even now! An acknowledged hero, self-sacrificing to a quite sickening degree – that more than compensates most people for your wicked temper, so long as they don't have to deal with you too often. I know you don't treat Potter to much of it. Yes, of course I know that. I've known you for a long time, for all you deceived me completely; I've heard you muttering at Potter, too: practically love-talk.

So there you were, safely tucked away at Hogwarts, agreeing with the old man what lies you'd bring back to our master, what sacrifices of small truths you could make. He was an old villain; that intelligence he had you pass on killed more witches and wizards than you ever did of your own will. If I'd known as much of him in his life as I discovered after his death I'd have told Tom Marvolo Riddle he'd have to be up very early to catch such an experienced plotter out. I never realised our lord was hampered by youth and inexperience as well as impatience. Everything's relative, of course.

Ah well, I was young and stupid, quite as stupid as you ever were, but you learned better much faster than I did. You were disadvantaged by thinking yourself in love with the Evans girl – I knew better than to fall in love with Cissy, but we were (and are) very comfortable together, and I could trust her, which was more than you could do with that fool girl who threw you away for one word spoken in offended pride.

I do trust, Severus, you can tell the son from the mother, as you learned eventually to tell him from the father.

By Merlin, you played us all for fools. And yet, you kept your promise to Cissy, you did far more for Draco than even that Vow required (he's talked to me since, as I know he's talked to you; I gather he even thanked you). Dear me, what an idiot he was, too, even worse than us. We weren't in immediate peril of our lives at sixteen, of course, and unlike him I shouldn't have turned a hair if some passing Dark wizard had slain my father out of hand. My mother was safely out of reach by then – another thing I owed my father. Well, that debt's paid. And yes, I do thank you. Seeing how Draco felt and feels about his mother reminds me of what I missed. Such a humiliating way to die, dragonpox, something that's been curable for centuries. I'm still pleased that Abraxas knew at the end that he wasn't dying of dragonpox.

Just as well this Pensieve's private, hmm? You needn't worry, it's secured under ward upon ward. Draco will find it once I'm gone, and can share it with you if he chooses, if I haven't let you in before that. But we've talked so much, of late years, neither of us probably has too many things that are mysteries to the other any longer. So I can say what I choose, and know I won't surprise you. Except, perhaps, "You clever, clever sod." I very much admire that you deceived Voldemort to the end, even in your death, as you thought. (Potter told the world about it that night. No discretion, that boy, but it did a lot for your reputation, which probably needed doing.)

And in spite of all your deceits and calculations, and all my taking advantage, and "coming the Malfoy" over you, as you used to say, we're somehow still friends, even though you won and I lost. Looking around me, and thinking of how it might have been, I should perhaps express some gratitude for losing. I have a wife and son, and grandsons now, and a life, and a wand, even if the Wizengamot and the Aurors didn't think so. (It was a pain concealing it, all those years – do I owe it to you that Potter finally told them to stop punishing me for breaking and entering? I would have loved to have seen their faces when he said that.)

Remember when you told us about Grimmauld Place (not naming it, naturally), and how irritated Bellatrix was to realise that magic forbade you to speak about a place whose existence she'd perfectly well known, but whose memory the Fidelius had stolen from her, and continued to steal? Remember how anxious she was to catch her cousin away from the house, how happy when that treacherous little house-elf came to Cissy (and her, and half a dozen others) to tell about the house, and their cousin hiding out, and running around as a poor imitation of a Grim? Ah, you weren't there. But I told you of it.

Maybe I should have told you about our lord's last plot to retrieve the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries – you might have applied a little logic, and he might have heard you. He didn't listen to me; after a while he hexed me for complaining before I even opened my mouth. It was simpler to go along with the plan. And even then you set the Aurors and the Order on us, so the prophecy was lost. As Black was lost to them, and I'm sure that saddened you terribly. The one bright spot for you, I imagine.

In retrospect, maybe I should thank you for that year in prison, that kept me safe from doing anything they could have had me Kissed for, but I don't, Severus, I don't. I'm not so forgiving as that.

But I thank you for deceiving him – and I laugh every time I hear someone quoting you as saying you're done with deceit. When you're dead, Severus, when you're dead. Perhaps.

~~ ~~ ~~

Madam Ginevra Weasley-Macmillan (the former Mrs Potter): extract from personal interview (Mrs Macmillan rejected a request for a Pensieve record)

... I never liked Snape. He was a rotten teacher, he hated Gryffindors, he hated my family, he hated Harry. And as for his behaviour in what should have been my sixth year at Hogwarts, which I had to repeat, after all that, like everyone else – unspeakable git! Encouraging the Carrows to do everything to the students he'd always been too scared to do, even after Dumbledore wasn't around to keep him in check. And as for sacrificing himself for the wizarding world, that's as much a laugh as "the greater good". He had the hots for Lily Evans when they were at school, and could never get another woman to look at him, that's all. Obsessive, slimy, beastly, snarky man.

Harry really must be a devil for punishment, even now, when everyone admires him, even though they don't need him to save the world any more. Everyone knows he's the Saviour. And whatever our private disagreements – for which Snape was solely responsible, whatever Harry said – I haven't forgotten what Harry did for us, for me.

I haven't forgotten, either, that he dumped me for a year to go and chase Dark Lords. He did it "for my own good", naturally. I could have helped. Even my own mother, in the Battle of Hogwarts, wouldn't let me do what I perfectly well could have done.

Harry's always in the right; I'm used to that, even in my own family. To this day Mum says he acted properly, and she's thankful. But if Harry had seen me take mad Bellatrix down, would he have understood I was his equal? That it was safe to love me? God, all those years he wasted in the Auror Division, cleaning it up because it needed it, and someone had to do it, and of course that someone was him. Years of chasing Dark wizards too, but with Harry you don't need to worry about that. And now he's a real public figure, even if he dumped me (again!) first. I'm pretty sure he's not too fond of being the Mugwump and holding down all those other international liaison jobs, too, though he gets home, I'm told, a lot earlier than he used to when he was an Auror.

You'd think Harry'd be over wanting to be loved by now. As if that SOB loves him! Maybe it's Harry's "rescue the perishing" mentality, then, that just has to have something to work on. Poor Harry, I couldn't save him from Snape. You know, Harry used to say, "It's hard to save people if they don't want to be saved, or won't admit they need it." He never could see he was talking about himself and me and Snape, when he said that.

But I don't care any more, I don't have to care. I have my job, my family, I have my children. (Even if they do visit their father more often – he has a bigger house and more money to give them, so I suppose James and Al and Lily put up with Snape being around too. Ungrateful little sods. No, I don't mean that. Of course I love them. But they're grown up, they've gone their own ways, and at least they remember to say, "Thanks, Mum," sometimes. And of course Ernie and I have to consider our children, my second family; they're more mine than Harry's ever were.)

You're asking about Snape again. What's to say? He was a Death Eater, and if he lied to Voldemort just as much as he lied to everyone else, he was out for himself. Look at how he "came back from the dead", as the _Prophet_ called it. ( _I_ never get the front page, unless there's a World Cup on in Britain.) Just the sort of thing he'd do, having a pocket stuffed full of bezoars and Blood Replenishing Potion and anti-venom (no, Harry says it's "antivenin", okay, Harry, okay, have it your way, you always do). Probably had himself layered with Dark magic protections, too. What sort of person runs around expecting to be betrayed except a traitor?

I don't suppose he's changed, but I haven't seen him in years. I'll dance at his funeral, if he ever has the decency to drop dead, and I might even pay the Deathly Hallows to play there, too, with an especially vigorous Sonorus on the brass. Except he's dead now, really; does Harry ever think he's sleeping with an Inferius? Euwch!

I really don't want to talk about him any more. Either of them.

[Attached note: Conon, Harmodius assures me Mrs Macmillan was no more than mildly tipsy when she gave that interview – in the presence of her husband, who made no objections. She signed the release stone cold sober. Harmodius brought a mediwitch and had her administer a precautionary Sobrietus, and formally attest to Mrs Macmillan being fully in command of herself, though the mediwitch confirmed afterwards that there'd been no need for the charm. Harmodius is a Slytherin; he wasn't taking any risk of losing his precious data.

I have no idea why Mrs Macmillan not only said that, but also agreed to allow it to be published. (It's not as if Harmodius didn't give her time to think about it; he did.) Unless she's talking to her former husband; the word goes she's not seen him in years, either, except in the presence of her family and their children. A bit rough on Ernie that she can't be happy with what she's got; he's a pretty decent fellow under that stuffiness. Pity she's not still playing for the Holyhead Harpies; that might take her mind off the past. As senior Quidditch correspondent for the _Prophet_ still, she makes a good Rita Skeeter – very readable, of course, my wife reads me extracts every weekend – but I suppose the lady still doesn't have enough to do.

Maybe Harry Potter is the one that got away. I notice none of the Potter children live anywhere near their mother's home.

Possibly she's willing to embarrass herself in public – if a journalist who writes as she does could be said to be capable of that – in order to embarrass Mr Potter. When the book comes out, we'll see. Of course if he's truly upset, Mrs Macmillan will probably need to look out for Severus Snape. He's never said that he's given up on revenge, that I recall.

BH]

~~ ~~ ~~

Attachment: A wizarding photograph of Professor Severus Snape as he currently is (well dressed, unobtrusively neat in black robes; shoulder-length hair and skin clean and clear, face not so thin or lined as it used to be, even if there's grey in the hair tucked behind his ears; lips firmly closed over the uneven teeth). Pretty good for a man of his age and experiences, really. Not a formal portrait: no Order of Merlin, no academic over-robe, no chain of office, no wizard's hat. He is seated in a high-backed chair, apparently reading.

He looks up, over his rimless half reading glasses, rolls his eyes at Harrower, and goes back to his book. Harrower can imagine that he would say, "Do you really think I care?"

Harrower smiles and slips the bundle of parchment and photograph in an envelope and sends it flying off to the Chairman's office.

~~ ~~ The End ~~ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> Written November 2007 as a birthday gift for Josan (josanpq), who has given me many hours of Snape-centric reading pleasure; who was, I think, the first truly good Snape writer I ever found; and whose works I still devour and re-read. My thanks to my brother for the usual emergency 4 am beta–read, and to snakeling, who volunteered and made helpful suggestions very late in the piece too.


End file.
